Warm California Sun

Ah.  The end of a vacation.  Sitting in my hotel room in Santa Monica, J asleep.  Lights twinkling below, the pier in the distance and beyond, Point Dume.  I spent the afternoon on Zuma Beach, body surfing four-foot swells into shore while J danced in the surf and dug holes and laughed when I walked up with kelp in my hair.  The smell of the air off the sea.  Salt on my lips and in my hair.  The tall, tall palms. 

I could get used to this place.  And vacation. 

This morning, the Getty Villa.  I didn't pay much attention to the art (though there was a rather stunning Venus..  and some great mosaics), and instead followed J as she explored the architecture.  The gardens.  The paths. 

Not quite ready to go back to DC. 

Other musical highlights of the trip?

• JA singing Blind Blake's Diddie Wa Diddie on the banjo on the train to the Grand Canyon..   That and Hand Me Down my Walking Cane (from the Live on the Grand Canyon Line disc) have become car staples.  On repeat.

• Seeing David Rawlings at the soundcheck for Dawes at Pappy & Harriets, in the pristine high desert above Joshua Tree.  Watching J's face as the full band kicked in and hearing her say that it sounded "just like heaven."  

• Neko Case's voice cutting through the Mojave as we pulled out of Kingman and headed south and west, along abandoned Route 66.

• Today Was a Good Day coming on the radio as we pulled off of I-10 and caught our first glimpse of the beach..